


Birthdays Are Holidays, Too, Dean

by nerdylittledude



Series: Ugly Sweater !Verse [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 17:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdylittledude/pseuds/nerdylittledude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Sam's birthday and Cas is determined to put as much enthusiasm into it as he does every other holiday of the year. The whole deal is big on nostalgia and chick flick brother moments, courtesy of Cas. And, aside from the festivies, Dean and Cas make a (tiny) new friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthdays Are Holidays, Too, Dean

**Author's Note:**

> : I will admit that there is a fair amount of shameless self indulgence because I used to live about 15 minutes from Philadelphia. You'll know what I mean soon enough. Also - I completely forgot about Sunshine (sorry!) and changed a detail about where Sam and Sarah live. I switched them from Indiana to New York because I realized the commute would be a bitch. Also: THE TOKEN SWEATER ISN'T UGLY! There's a first for everything. Anyways, enjoy!

"I don't think this swing can support our combined weight, Dean."  
  
Dean and Castiel are in a playground. It's dusk; the sky is blushing a soft and lovely pink, as though the premature moon has been complimenting it. Castiel looks nice in the warm light, though Dean thinks the repeated surges of love pulsing through his body - and Castiel's, too, he's sure - may be making him biased. The weather is as perfect as everything else about this moment. Trees around them are blossoming with tiny white and pink buds, and the whole air smells of spring.  
  
Castiel is sitting on a swing and Dean his straddling his lap, pressing his forehead against Dean’s been kissing him periodically, more often than not. This is Castiel's first time on a swing. Dean had been appalled when he discovered Cas has never swung before, and had driven them both to the nearest playground immediately upon receiving this information. The concept of swinging had been foreign to Cas and he started out flailing back and forth on his own. Dean had eventually caved (out of pity, mostly), and pushed his angel on the swing. He'd tried the whole while not to fixate on how impossibly  _girly_  it was, how sickeningly sappy... but Cas seemed pleased, and it was enough to distract Dean from his embarrassment. The park is mostly empty, anyway.   
  
After a while, the desire to hold his boyfriend became overwhelming. Which is where he is now - sitting on the swing with him, straddling his lap so they can comfortably share it. Cas is propelling them gently back and forth with his feet pushing against the ground. Their position looks a little incriminating, but they're being mostly innocent. Besides, no one's around to see.  
  
"We're fine, Cas," Dean assures him, despite how the swing is creaking suspiciously every time it moves back and forth.   
  
"Hmm," Cas replies, clearly not believing his boyfriend.  
  
"Trust me," Dean says with a grin, and kisses Cas' nose. Jesus  _Christ_ , Cas has turned into such a girl.  
  
It's been even worse since they finally... consummated their love, or whatever it's supposed to be called. Now, Dean's all over Cas all the time. He's always touching him, now, always kissing him. It's like the afterglow never wore off. Cas is still a little more reserved, but he always seems pleased with the attention.  
  
"I trust you. I do not trust the swing. It is clearly very old."  
  
"It's fine," Dean says dismissively, and Cas huffs a sigh. They're quiet for a long while after that, just gently swinging back and forth and enjoying a comfortable silence.   
  
"It's almost Sam's birthday," Cas says after a while.   
  
"Yeah. We inviting him over for cake and ice cream?"  
  
Cas frowns a little at that.  
  
"No. I was picturing something a little more... festive."  
  
Dean laughs.  
  
"Are you gonna go all holiday over Sam's birthday? 'Cause birthdays aren't really as big a deal, Cas. Sam will be happy with some cake and a present."  
  
Cas wrinkles his brow and looks visibly annoyed.  
  
"I see no difference. I am very grateful that Sam was born. He deserves to be celebrated."  
  
Dean rolls his eyes.  
  
"I'm pretty sure you're just a holiday junkie, Cas."  
  
"Regardless, we must plan something worthy of commemorating your brother's birth."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, we'll do something big. Any ideas?"

"I was hoping you might have some."  
  
"Me? You're the get-together planning guy."  
  
Cas sighs.  
  
"I enjoy being able to create what you and Sam were unable to have as children. Like proper holidays, for instance. And now, Sam's birthday. What's something that Sam would have liked for his birthday as a child?"  
  
Dean is quiet for a moment, because he never thought about it like that. That Cas might love organizing holiday things because Dean and Sam never had them growing up. That Cas had even  _thought_  of it that way. It makes Dean feel warm all over.  
  
"You gotta give me a sec on that one," Dean says, "It's been a while since we were that young."  
  
Cas nods.  
  
"We have several days."  
  
Just then, Dean catches sight of something out of the corner of his eyes. He turns around quickly, instincts on autopilot after so many years of learning that something sneaking up on him is rarely a good thing. It's not a Supernatural creature, though - it's a little girl. She bursts into giggles when she makes eye contact with Dean. She looks all of five years old. She keeps staring longer than is comfortable, and Dean feels compelled to say something.  
  
"Uh, can we help you somehow, little girl?" he asks, turning in Cas' lap to face her properly.  
  
She starts giggling again and nods her head.  
  
"Are you two daddies?" she asks, and Dean is taken aback by the question.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Are you two daddies? 'Cause my friend Marcel, she has two daddies and they always take us out for ice cream with rainbow sprinkles sometimes 'cause it matches their flag and they're really nice and maybe if you're two daddies, you can buy me ice cream, too?"  
  
Dean laughs at the little kid's logic and shakes his head.  
  
"Sorry, kiddo. We'd need our own kids to be dads, and we don't have any."  
  
The little girl looks thoughtful, as though this has never occurred to her before.   
  
"Can you push me on the swing?" she asks abruptly. Dean looks skeptical. All the while, Cas has his brow furrowed, as though communicating with a small child is a daunting feat and they're talking to some foreigner who barely speaks English.  
  
"Um. Is your mom or dad around here somewhere?" Dean asks dubiously. The little girl nods and points in the direction of the parking lot.  
  
"She's on the phone 'cause she's got messages. She can see me from here." Sure enough, a woman is in the parking lot facing them, leaning against the car with a cell phone to her ear. The little girl flashes the woman a thumbs up, and the woman returns the gesture with a smile.  
  
"Er - sure, why the hell not?" he says with a shrug, and clambers off of Cas. 

Dean helps the girl into a swing (she insists she’s too big for the harness ones) and tentatively pushes her. She giggles with delight – _again_ – and urges Dean to push harder. Dean complies, swinging her higher and higher until Cas says sternly, “Careful, Dean.”

Dean rolls his eyes – something he does habitually around Cas.

“Lighten up,” Dean says, and the girl chimes in with her assent.

“What’s your name, kid?” Dean asks her after a while of swinging.

“Lyric,” she responds, smiling brightly as though this question always pleases her to answer.

“I’m Dean and this is my – this is my boyfriend, Cas.” This is the first time Dean has introduced Cas this way, and he finds that he likes it, even if the word feels strange on his tongue.

“Salutations,” Cas says, and Lyric laughs. She laughs _a lot_ , apparently.

“You talk funny,” she informs Cas, and he wrinkles his brow in confusion. It occurs to Dean that Cas has probably never thought of this before.

The girl’s mother is off the phone now, Dean notices, and is walking toward them.

“Thank you,” the woman says warmly when she arrives, and Dean grins. “She would have been whining at me if not for you.”

“What can I say? I have a soft spot for the little ones.”

 And it’s true; he does. Little kids remind him of when Sam was young and needed him. Sam was cute, then, brimming with questions and enthusiasm. He’d been a chubby little thing until early middle school, and Dean used to dote on him in as manly a way as possible. Little kids remind Dean of a time when everything was simpler – a time before the apocalypse and Lucifer and dick angels. They were just two kids from a broken home, but it wasn’t so bad. Not as bad as it got, anyway.

“You were on the phone too long,” Lyric pouts. Her mother sighs wearily. Dean notices that the woman looks very tired, though she’s actually quite beautiful. Hear appearance practically screams ‘single mom.’ He’s vaguely aware that if he didn’t have Cas, he’d probably be hitting on her by now.

“I’m sorry, honey. But you know Mommy’s trying to find a babysitter for you…” She notices Dean’s curious look. “Lyric’s daycare is closing down. I’ve got about a week to find her a full time sitter or I’m hosed. I’ve gotten about three calls about my online listing, but we’re so close to Philadelphia… they all sound like creeps.” She shudders.

Dean exchanges a long look with Cas – a silent conversation. They do this a lot. These looks that speak without words feel almost telepathic, sometimes. Dean often wonders if it’s a hell thing, if it has to do with the fact that Cas pulled his soul from the deepest corners of hell with his bare hands. He thinks it might.

Cas nods subtly and Dean gets his answer.

“Hey, if you don’t end up finding your babysitter in a week, we’d be glad to watch her until you do. She seems to like me anyway. Can’t say I blame her, I’m kind of a stud.”

“They’re boyfriends, mommy!” Lyric exclaims enthusiastically, “Maybe they’ll take me for ice cream?”

Lyric’s mother rolls her eyes. “She’s got a fascination with gay… everything, lately; you’ll have to excuse her. But I might just take you two up on that offer. You seem much more competent than anyone on the phone calls I’ve gotten. And, you’re right, she _does_ like you. Which is quite a feat.”

She digs into her pocket and pulls out a pen and an old receipt and hands it to Dean, who writes down his number.

“Hit us up in a week,” Dean says with a smile. The little girl hops up and down excitedly.

“Will do. Thank you.”

Dean and Cas leave soon after that because Dean’s stomach has started audibly making its emptiness noticed. They drive to their regular diner, and the whole time, Dean can’t shut up about how cute the little girl is.

*

“We haven’t gone hunting in a couple days. I don’t like it.”

Dean and Cas are in their flat playing Twister. Their bodies are contorted to the point where it’s a struggle to actually reach and spin the arrow that dictates where to move next. Dean is painfully aware of the fact that one of Cas’ legs is in between both of his. He’s kind of hoping this little game ends up with sex – hell, if he’s honest with himself, he actually purchased it with sex in mind.

“You’re restless,” Cas says, and it’s a statement rather than a question. Dean spins the arrow and scowls when he sees how far his left leg is expected to go.

“Yeah. I don’t like knowing that that there’re evil sons of bitches out there and I’m not out there killing them.”

Cas smiles fondly.

“Always the hero complex,” he says.

“What, you don’t like saving people?

“I’m happy whenever you are happy, Dean.”

“Huh.” Dean focuses intently on inching his leg forward, trying to reach the intended spot, in hopes that Cas might pay attention to that and not the blush creeping onto his face.

Cas spins the arrow and sighs at the nearly impossible position he’s been issued. He reaches an arm over Dean’s back to try and reach the spot, but he’s simply not long enough to reach it. The arm not reaching buckles under his weight and he falls on Dean. Their limbs end up tangled up on the floor and Dean groans.

“I’m too old for this,” he announces. Cas chuckles. Cas laughing is _still_ a weird sound. Dean wonders if it’ll ever not be weird.

“Besides, the whole ‘credit card fraud’ thing actually starts to make me feel bad if I’m not hunting,” Dean says thoughtfully after they’ve been laying there a while. It’s not exactly comfortable, but Dean likes the way Cas is carding his hands through his hair and he doesn’t want to get up.

“Doing good makes you feel justified?”

“Well, yeah. If I’m saving people, the fraud thing is just… a paycheck.”

“Dean, this is sounding like you may be developing a conscience. Should I be concerned?”

Dean shoves him playfully. “Oh, shut up.”

“Perhaps you could teach me to play pool,” Cas suggests, “between the two of us on a regular basis, we could likely support ourselves.”

Dean snorts. “Not well, dude. It’s not exactly a dependable income. I don’t wanna lose our flat if we happen to have a couple of bad games in a row.”

Cas nods. “We could always find jobs like normal civilians.

Dean laughs at that. “When have we ever come close to normal civilians? The simple solution is to just get off our asses and hunt more.”

Cas smiles and rolls his eyes – another surreally human gesture. “If it will sate your conscience. Perhaps we can take a week to travel around the tri-state area and do that?”

Dean contemplates this a moment. “Can’t say I miss the motels, but you might have an idea there.”

Cas kisses him then, and Dean closes his eyes, and deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue easily between Cas’ lips.

“Gotta admit, Cas, I had ulterior motives for getting Twister.”

“I assumed as much.”

Dean raises his eyebrows, wondering whether he’s become completely transparent or if Cas can just read him like a book. He’s not sure which thought scares him more.

“So… wanna have sex?”

“That sounds appealing. Though you realize you’ll miss the Phillies game?”

Dean’s eyes dart to the TV, then back to Cas. He’s taken up watching baseball lately. Their local major league team is actually pretty badass. He hasn’t had time to watch baseball since he was a kid and he finds he really enjoys the nostalgia of it.

“I’ll get over it,” he decides, pushing a thigh up between Cas’ legs. Cas’ eyes flutter shut.

“You’re wearing far too much clothing,” Cas informs Dean in a low growl.

“You’re damn right about that,” Dean agrees. Then there are lips crashing and fingers fumbling and quiet, breathy noises and yet again, Dean marvels at the amazing course his life has taken.

*

They catch the tail end of the ninth inning – the game ran long, thankfully – and suddenly Dean has an idea.

“Dude. Baseball.”

Dean looks at Dean and tilts his head in confusion.

“Yes, Dean. This is baseball.”

“Well – no shit, Sherlock, of course it is. Not what I was getting at. Sammy’s birthday, man. Let’s take him to a real major league ball game. The Phillies are playing a home game on Wednesday. He was always bugging Dad to take him as a kid. He always wanted to play little league, too, but we moved around too much. We’ve never been to a real game before. He’ll love it.”

Cas’ eyes light up.

“Dean, that’s perfect. I had my own idea, as well. I thought, perhaps, we could have a barbecue? By the lake, a couple miles from here. I presume you’ve never done anything like that before, either?”

Dean grins. “Sure haven’t.”

“Then it’s settled.”

The game ends about 15 minutes later and Dean starts nuzzling at Cas neck, kissing it every now and then.

“Is it too soon for more sex?” he asks in his boyfriend’s ear. Cas shudders.

“Your constant libido is flattering, Dean,” Cas replies, “but I think you’re overestimating either of our recovery times. Later.”

“Erghh,” is Dean’s reply with an agitated sigh. “Well. How about pie?”

Cas kisses Dean softly on the lips and nods. “I will bake pie. We will have sex afterwards.”

“Fuck yes.”

*

Naturally, Cas plans out everything. They decide early on that it should be a secret. Of course, Sam knows they’re inviting him down for his birthday, but he doesn’t know everything they have planned for him. Sarah is in on the surprise and has been sworn to secrecy. The days leading up to Sam’s birthday are filled with a sort of anxious excitement. Dean’s surprised how eagerly he’s anticipating the look on Sam’s face when he realizes cake and ice cream are not the only things on the agenda.

They spend a hell of a lot of money getting the best last minute tickets possible, and Dean shreds the card under the name “Robby Steinhardt” as soon as they’re ordered. He’s seriously considering honest methods of earning a living, but most of them include a 9 to 5 job and he seriously can’t handle that. He and Cas might have some semblance of an apple pie life – something he never in his wildest dreams thought he’d get – but there are some things he simply can’t bring himself to do. He can’t go from saving lives on a regular basis to working a cash register or tending a bar.

It doesn’t help that he knows Sam’s earning an honest living now. He works in Sarah’s father’s antique shop – that and scholarships help pay for his college classes. The damn kid’s condo is even paid off – he shares it with Sarah, and she inherited a pretty large sum from an aunt who’s even richer than Sarah’s father, about a year before Sam met Sarah again after the apocalypse. They split the bills and live comfortably. Sam doesn’t need credit card fraud and pool hustling to support himself. Dean’s very, very confused as to why he finds himself jealous about this.

He puts these thoughts out of his head as best as he can, though, because there’s nothing he can do about them.

Cas has a recipe for cake he’s been dying to try out, but Dean’s always been partial to pie and whines whenever Cas mentions baking anything else. Now, Cas is delighted to have a proper reason to give it a go. It’s chocolate mousse cake, and Dean can’t get over the pun. A mousse cake for his giant moose of a brother – it’s too fitting.

On May 2nd, Cas gets started on the cake about two hours before Sam and Sarah are supposed to show up. All the while, Dean is intent on distracting him, sliding hands over his stomach and kissing the back of his neck where he knows he’s sensitive. Cas resolutely sends him away again and again, insisting that getting caught in the middle of intercourse is no way to start Sam’s birthday.

The day is more chilly than normal for this season – much to Cas’ delight. He’s got a Phillies sweater and matching baseball cap from Dean he’d been hoping to wear, and when the weather report announced low to mid 50s, he was visibly pleased. He looks cute in it, bounding around the kitchen looking like he’s ready to play ball. Dean adds playing baseball to his mental list of things he wants to do with Cas sometime.

Dean has to admit that the smell of chocolate permeating the house is pretty enticing, and maybe this cake business may have some merit. Sam and Sarah arrive around one o’ clock. Sam’s all smiles, wearing a big grin that lights up his face. He’s exuding the same excitement Dean’s been feeling all week – and all that over what he thinks is just a small get-together and Cas and Dean’s place. Dean’s practically buzzing with how happy he is over everything they have planned.

“Happy birthday, Sam,” Cas says warmly as he lets them in.

“Thanks, Cas.” Sam goes for a hug and it’s as awkward to watch as it must be for both Sam and Cas to experience, but Dean’s happy they went for it anyway. Cas is family and everyone’s acting like it, and it makes Dean feel really, really good that Cas has been accepted so thoroughly by the people he loves. Sam’s approval means everything to him. Dean figures after the whole apocalypse bit and the falling-from-heaven thing, Sam’s got more than enough reasons to like Cas, anyway. The honest happiness Dean sees on Sam’s face – even through the awkward hug – proves how much of a Winchester Cas has become in Sam’s eyes.

“I’m very glad you were born,” Cas adds, and Sarah laughs.

“I am, too!” she agrees enthusiastically, and hugs Cas herself. Again, awkward but totally heartwarming. Dean hugs Sarah, too, and slaps his brother on the back.

“So how old are you now, Sammy? Thirty-five? Forty?” It’s only funny because Sam’s only twenty-eight and looks fairly young for a guy who went through the apocalypse and conquered Lucifer – the devil himself.

“You realize the older you make me when you joke, the older it makes you,” Sam points out, and Dean groans.

“In which case, you’re fifteen.”

Sarah shakes her head in contempt. “That would make me a creep. Let’s just stick to twenty-eight.”

“Twenty-eight it is,” Cas decides.

 “Yeah, but that still makes me old,” Dean pouts. Cas gives him a level look.

“Dean, do you realize who you’re talking to?”

Dean shuts up because, yeah, he kind of forgot his ex-angel boyfriend is like thousands of years old or something. Which – awkward.

Sam starts to take off his jacket, but stops when he realizes that Dean’s putting his on.

“Er – going somewhere, Dean?”

“Yup. And so are you. Cas, get the stuff.”

“Stuff?” Sam asks, but Dean ignores him.

“I can’t carry it all. I need your assistance,” Cas replies. Dean complies and they walk off to the kitchen, leaving Sam looking incredibly confused. The cake is all packed up and ready to go, as are the burgers and hot dogs for grilling. They’ve got two bottles of lemonade to bring, too, and have everything concealed in a bag so that the secret’s kept til the last possible moment.

Sam eyes the bag suspiciously when they leave the kitchen, and Sarah’s got a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling.

“No chance you’re gonna explain right now, are you?” Sam asks.

Dean responds, “Hell no,” and Cas shakes his head solemnly.

They all pack into the Impala – Dean lets Sam drive for once and he sits shotgun. Sam plays his awful music because the law of the car says that _driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole_ , even if said driver is not the rightful owner of the car. Besides, it’s Sam’s birthday. Sam keeps grinning as he scrolls through his iPod – the bitch had to go and bring his stupid adapter thing – and looking at Dean like’s a superhero. Dean feels like he used to when Sam was really little and he’d buy him ice cream and it was like his big brother singlehandedly lit up the sky or something.

It’s nice.

Sam’s not from the area (hell, he’s not from the _state_ ), so he has no idea where they’re going, even as Dean gives him directions. He blindly navigates the highway and obediently takes the exit he’s directed to (though there’s a momentary argument between Dean and Sam over which exit to take, which irritates Sam to no end). They talk and talk as they drive, filling each other in on everything they’ve been missing out on. Sam talks about law school – NYU Law this time instead of Stanford, so he can be close to Dean and Sarah can be close to her family. He’s doing well, excelling in all his classes, despite the huge gap between his undergrad years and now. Dean’s not at all surprised.

Dean and Cas talk about recent hunts, all the ugly sons of bitches they’ve been ridding the world of. They discuss their vague road trip plans and Sam thinks it’s a good idea – though his reasoning is that Dean needs to “get it out of his system”, which is not what Dean meant by it at all. Dean goes on about Lyric, too, even though Sam teases him and calls him a creeper for it.

“You thinking there are kids in your future, Dean?” Sarah asks, and Dean can’t tell if she’s kidding or not. He snorts.

“No. That would interfere with my need to be able to fuck Cas whenever I please.”

Cas turns red and looks out the window intensely, scooting as close to the door as possible as though trying to disappear.

“Jesus Christ! Dean! Little brother in the car here! Not a mental image I wanted. God. You’re so graphic,” Sam exclaims dramatically.

“You’re such a prude, Sammy,” Dean says, ruffling Sam’s hair. The road they’re on has slowly become shrouded on both sides by high trees, and the light is shadowy. Even so, Dean can feel the sun through the branches – it’s warming up, big time. Dean’s found that Pennsylvania weather this close to South Jersey can only be described as “bipolar”. Its ups and downs are crazy. Cas shrugs out of his sweater to reveal a bright red Phillies t-shirt underneath.

“Make a right up here,” Dean says, indicating an upcoming turnoff. Sam does as he’s told, and only when he sees the sign reading LAKE GARRISON does realization dawn on him.

“Are we – ”

“Figured we’d take you somewhere scenic for your birthday,” Dean says with a grin and Sam looks about happy enough to burst.

“Dude – thank you, seriously, you didn’t have to…”

“This part’s all Cas, you can thank him.”

Sam swivels in his seat and turns his million dollar smile on Cas.

“Thank you, Castiel. Seriously. This… means a lot to me.”

Sam parks the car close to the water and gets out, stretching his long limbs like the ride was long, even though it was only about 30 minutes. He looks out at the water like he’s never been to a lake before or something. All Dean can see when he looks at his brother’s blatant excitement is the little kid he watched grow up without special occasions like this.

“Wish I brought my swimsuit,” he says as everyone else piles out of the car.

“Good thing I thought ahead,” Sarah responds in a singsong voice, pulling a pair out of her uncharacteristically overlarge tote bag.

“You were in on this?”

“I’m in on _all_ of it,” she replies. The emphasis on the ‘all’ part is lost to Sam, who is busy marveling at how pretty the lake is. Dean and Cas pull all the food from the car and they trek out to the short beach and pick a picnic table to set up at.

“Remember the last lake we went to, Dean?” Sam asks as he helps unload.

“Augh, do I ever. That was the one with the creepy ghost kid who kept drowning people.” Dean shudders at the memory. That had been a particularly bad experience – a little boy had almost drowned.

“This lake looks nothing like that one,” Sam says, and it’s true. That one had been a deep, dark and ominous blackish blue. This one is nearly clear and has a small beach around it. There are people swimming and playing around the water everywhere – there’s a surprising amount for a Wednesday afternoon.

“Yeah, we made sure of that,” Dean says, and Sam smiles appreciatively.

“I’m really glad we can overwrite all these bad memories you two have with good ones,” Sarah remarks. “It’s about time you guys have some decent times to weigh up against the bad ones.”

 

“You said it,” Dean agrees, and Cas nods.

“You’ve both more than earned it,” he says. Sam and Dean both look uncomfortable, like Sam is just as unsure what to do with these compliments as Dean is.

“C’mon, Dean,” Sam whines after a beat, tugging on his brother’s arm and glancing at the lake.  “Let’s go swim.

Dean rolls his eyes because, serious, when did Sam switch into little kid mode? Not that Dean’s complaining – he likes seeing this side of his brother. He hasn’t seen it since Stanford. Maybe even before that. Unfortunately, Dean has to set up the barbecue.

“Sorry bro, I’ve got a grill to light up. Take Cas instead.”

Cas looks alarmed, as though this is the first time he’s considered the idea that he might actually have to get in the water. Dean snickers at him.

“I will take over the barbecue, Dean. Go swim with Sam, it is his birthday. I will… join you later.” Dean seriously doubts that, and he frowns at Cas.

“No way, man. Dinner and baking and all that… kitchen stuff, that’s all you. But I’m pretty sure the grill is my division.”

Sam’s mouth makes an _O_ shape and he covers his mouth with a fist, presumably to keep from laughing. Sarah’s eyebrows raise. Cas, on the other hand, is glowering fiercely – and the look is pure _angel_ , all wrath and cosmic power, despite his humanity and Dean feels chills even though the sun is hot against his back. He takes a slight, subconscious step backward.

“Uh – did I miss something here?” he asks, laughing awkwardly. Cas takes a step forward, getting in Dean’s personal space in a way that is decidedly menacing. Dean swallows.

“If you ever compare me to a housewife again, Dean, I will cause you bodily harm,” Cas hisses.

Sam’s expression is very much that of a teenage girl looking both pleased and scandalized over a juicy piece of gossip. Sarah’s smile is twitching at the edges of her lips like she’s fighting it with all she’s worth. Dean, for the most part, is slightly terrified.

“Yes sir,” he mutters automatically – and he’s not being facetious, either. It just feels like the only possible response he can give.

“Good,” Cas replies, “Now go swim with Sam.”

Dean wrinkles his brow and says nothing else, just pulls off his shirt and tugs off his jeans – he has swimming trunks concealed underneath – and treks off toward the water. Sam follows after, making a whipping gesture (and corresponding sound effects) and laughing at his big brother’s expense.  Dean shoves him so hard he nearly falls over into the sand, and they end up shoving each other until they make it knee deep into the water – at which point Sarah pushes them both into the water with a colossal splash.

*

Cas grills as well as he cooks – which is to say, friggin badass. He puts at least half the burger joint Dean has been to in his life to shame. Apparently Cas had some sort of recipe up his sleeve, because the seasoning on them is mouth-watering. Cas looks incredibly pleased with the blissful looks on everyone’s faces as they dig in. He also looks… something _else_ when Dean makes borderline-explicit noises – mostly throaty _“mhh!”_ s with closed eyes – every time he takes a bite.

Dean may or may not be eating his hot dog after in an intentionally dirty matter once he realizes Cas’ subtle reactions to his noises. He’s being stealthy, though, careful only to venture into sinful gestures when Sam’s distracted by other things. Cas’ hand is gripping the edge of the picnic table to the point where his knuckles are white. Dean feels very accomplished.

“Stop,” Cas hisses, and Dean flashes him an innocent smile.

“Stop what, Cas?”

Cas only makes a nearly inaudible grown in the back of his throat in response.

Cake follows the food and Sam and Sarah look visibly impressed by the culinary masterpiece Cas pulls out of the cooler. Naturally, everyone agrees that they should sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Sam, much to his valiant protests. They ignore him and sing – they even light candles, which he refuses to blow out – and Sam is practically red with how embarrassed he is. He _does_ blow out the candles, though, to his credit. Dean successfully fights the desire to push his brother’s face into the cake, if only because the cake is so damn pretty. 

At Sarah’s insistence, they wait a while after eating before getting back into the water. Sam lies in the sand and promptly falls asleep. Dean and Sarah wait until he starts snoring before they bury him deep in the sand. He wakes up 20 minutes later to sand everywhere – in his shorts, in his hair, coating every inch of his body. He glares at Dean and Sarah ruefully.

“This is how you treat me on my birthday?” he groans, sitting up and shaking the sand from his body. He whips his hair like a L’Oreal commercial, sans the model smile. His hair does kinda shine in the sun like a perfectly lighted advert, though. Figures.

“My duty as a big brother doesn’t take a day off, Sammy,” Dean says.

“Likewise,” Sarah agrees, “’snarky fiancée’ doesn’t have an off switch.”

“At least _Cas_ is loyal,” Sam grumbles, shooting Cas a grateful look.

“Of course.” Cas nods.

“We’re getting back in the water,” Sam announces decidedly.

“Fine by me,” Dean agrees, standing from the picnic table and stretching. Cas stays where he’s sitting, though. Dean looks at him skeptically.  
  
“You coming?” he asks.  
  
Cas stares studiously at his hands.  
  
“No.”  
  
“What the hell, Cas? This whole thing was your idea. Why the hell wouldn’t you go?”  
  
“I chose this because I believed Sam would enjoy it. But… I don’t know how to swim, Dean. I’ve never had occasion.”   
  
Understanding dawns on Dean in an instant. He grins and ruffles Cas’ hair, leaving it even more unkempt than its usual state.  
  
“Don’t worry Cas, I’ve got you. I won’t let you drown. Jesus. Did you seriously doubt that?”  
  
Cas doesn’t look up.  
  
“That would hinder your fun.”  
  
“What? Cas! You staying out here when we’re all in the water would ‘hinder my fun’. I’ve got you, man.”  
  
“You two are adorable,” Sam says, and his tone is only half mocking. Dean punches him in the shoulder lightly.  
  
“Whatever. You coming, Cas?”  
  
Cas looks at the water behind them dubiously, but after a second he nods.  
  
They get knee-deep into the water when Cas stays put, glancing at the shore uncertainly. Dean doesn't notice at first because he's too busy having a splashing war with Sam, and he only turns around when they're up to their chests. He could hit himself for forgetting Cas, and runs as best he can chest-deep in water back to his boyfriend.  
  
"Sorry, Cas."  
  
"No need to apologize," Cas says quietly, eyes still trained on the shore.  
  
"Get on my back," Dean says abruptly, and Cas tilts his head in confusion.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Get on my back. Piggyback ride. I'll carry you."  
  
Cas looks doubtful.  
  
"I'm too heavy for you to carry, Dean."  
  
"Quit doubting me, Cas! If I say I've got you, then I've got you."   
  
"Hey, lovebirds, the fun's happening out here!" Sam calls from where he and Sarah are up far enough that they're treading water. They're just deep enough that if they start to sink far enough they can push up against the bottom if they need to, but from where Dean and Cas are, they look very, very far.   
  
"The water will make you lighter, anyway," Dean adds. Cas' face has gone white, but when Dean offers his back, he only hesitates a moment before climbing on. Cas is thin and hardly heavy at all, and once they get deeper into the water, he barely weighs a thing. Cas grips at Dean's ribs for dear life the whole while and says nothing.   
  
"'Bout time," Sam says when they get there.   
  
"My apologies," Cas says, and looks like he means it down to his core. Sam seems visibly alarmed.  
  
"Dude - Cas, I'm joking. I totally get it. Hell, I'm afraid of clowns and that doesn't even make  _sense._  At least your fear does. And you're, y'know, conquering it."  
  
"For you," Cas adds, "because it's your birthday."  
  
Sam gets all smiley over that and Dean clears his throat a little more loudly than necessary. And if he's a little jealous, he makes no further indication.  
  
A forgotten beach ball floats by them at some point, and Sam and Sarah pass it back and forth, throwing it higher and higher every time. Every time it goes too far, Sam sighs but goes after it. Dean wants to play, but his promise to Cas is more important, so he just laughs whenever Sam's forced to swim far out to bring the ball back.  
  
"Dean. Perhaps - perhaps you could let me off your back. If you hold on to me tightly, I'll still be... safe." Cas appears conflicted, but firm. Dean doesn't protest; if Cas is comfortable enough to suggest it, Dean's not gonna disagree.  
  
He lets Cas down and wraps an arm tightly around his waist. Cas looks panicked at hell and first, but he eases up a little when it becomes obvious that Dean's not going to let anything happen to him. Still, he wraps both arms around Dean so tight that it's almost uncomfortable, but Dean doesn't mind. Dean's got one free hand, now, and he can play ball with Sam and Sarah.   
  
They stay out in the water til they're too tired to swim any more. Dean carries Cas out on his back and Sam does the same with Sarah, just because. They clear up their picnic site and wash off all the excess sand in the sort-of-shower things the lake management provides. The hot water doesn't work and they're freezing by the time they're all cleaned up, especially because the air is getting a little cooler. Their beach towels are huge and fluffy, though, and both couples huddle up until they've warmed up a little. Only then does Dean check his cell phone.  
  
"Shit. Shit shit shit," he says and hands the phone to Cas. The clock on it reads 6pm. Cas frowns.  
  
"You'll have to drive fast."  
  
"Am I missing something?" Sam asks, and Sarah laughs.   
  
"There's changing rooms over there, guys. Let's get dressed -  _quickly_  - and get going.   
  
*

Dean pumps the heat in the Impala the whole ride to Philadelphia. Sarah is driving – apparently she’s a speed demon when she drives, so she’s most likely to get them there in time. Sam’s riding shotgun but Dean reaches over the seat to turn on the heat the moment he feels Cas shiver.

Sarah’s as intense a driver as Sam warned, and she makes the 35 minute trip ten minutes faster than expected. There’s an unnerving amount of honking from the Impala’s otherwise underused horn, but Dean figures it’s worth it when they hit the city at 6:25 even. Sam looks confused as hell by their destination, but he can’t coerce anyone to explain why they’re in Philadelphia.

The city traffic hinders their progress by about ten minutes but it’s not so bad, because Dean now Dean can watch his little brother growing visibly excited as he tries to figure out where they’re headed.

“I didn’t know we were going somewhere else,” he says unnecessarily. Dean smirks and Cas smiles.

“This was Dean’s idea,” he explains, and Sam looks so proud that Dean looks away, inexplicably embarrassed.

“So where are we going?” Sam asks for the thousandth time. This time, Dean takes on the window, indicating that Sam should look outside.

The Citizen Bank Park Phillies' stadium is massive and all lit up. Over the front entrance is an enormous display featuring a Phillies baseball cap - the same as the one Cas is currently putting on his head - and a baseball. A smaller, though still huge, features the Phillie's mascot, the Phillie Phanatic. The greenish mascot is a green, fuzzy creature that sort of freaks Dean out, but not enough to comment. Besides, he's too stuck on the way Sam's face has become a shining beam of light, all lit up with happiness.  
  
"We're here," Dean says, though there's no real need to it. The look on Sam's face clearly indicates that he knows exactly what's going on, now. And if Sam's looking a little teary-eyed, Dean pretends not to notice.  
  
"Dean... I've always wanted - when we were kids, I always -"  
  
"No chick flick moments," Dean cuts off quickly, and Sam, to Dean's relief, doesn't continue on with his sappy speech. Instead, he rolls down the window and leans his head out, marveling at the bright lights and plethora of fans decked out in baseball paraphernalia. Dean casts a glance at Cas, who looks quietly happy. His expression mirrors Sam's - all childishly blissful - and Dean feels very much in love.  
  
Parking at the stadium is a bitch, what with the big turnout at a home game. Fans from Philadelphia are infamous for their intense, obsessive and borderline frightening love for their team. It's no surprise that the place is packed, even on a Tuesday evening. It's 6:45 when they're finally parked and make it out of the car. It's another ten minutes before they're inside and trying to find their seats.  
  
Dean's a little bit in awe. It's one thing to watch baseball on TV, but he finds that it's another thing entirely to be there in real life. The place is big, bigger than he imagined. Sam seems to be feeling just as impressed, because he's looking all around surveying the seats and the field and the displays flickering everywhere.  
  
"Forgot I always wanted to do this," Sam says, and Dean barely hears him over the roar of the crowd - but he does, and the sentiment makes all this better, somehow. Sam's even happier because this is something that Dean pulled out his memory, dug out deep from his childhood. Dean's pleased he remembered. He's also pleased that Cas insisted that he try.  
  
They find their seats fairly easily, because Cas has a map and has already checked online for information on how to find their seats. Dean's gotta admit, his boyfriend is pretty clever... though that's not really new news.

“We’ll get snack and shit next inning,” Dean says, and everyone agrees. No way is anyone missing the first pitch.

7:05 on the dot, the game starts. The visiting team – the Atlanta Braves – is up to bat first. Dean finds himself holding his breath as the first pitch is thrown, and he’s not even sure why. Beside him, he can feel Sam doing the same thing. Cas is looking at him curiously, and Dean laughs and ruffles Cas’ hair.

Halfway into the second inning, Dean realizes that he’s holding Cas’ hand. Cas notices him noticing and looks at Dean expectantly, because hand holding is not a thing they do on a regular basis, and especially not in public. Dean threads their fingers together in response to Cas’ silent question, and Cas seems to relax.

Dean’s stomach is growling by the third inning and Cas gives him an incredulous look when he announces that he’s hungry.

“Two burgers and three hot dogs, Dean,” he reminds him, and Dean grins and shrugs.

 

“What can I say? Baseball makes me hungry.”

“You’re a bottomless pit,” Cas says, exasperated. He tells Dean this often.

Dean tells Sam and Sarah that he and Cas are heading to the snack bar. Sarah requests French fries and Sam asks for a pretzel. Dean groans at their lack of creativity.

“We’re in _Philadelphia_ and you’re getting French fries and pretzels? Where’s your imagination? They’ve got friggin hoagies and cheesesteaks out there.”

“We’re _normal people_ , Dean,” Sarah says, rolling her eyes, though her tone is affectionate. “We’re not hungry yet. We’ll go out to eat after the game.”

“Psh. I’m not gonna last that long. C’mon, Cas,” he beckons his boyfriend, and Cas follows after.

The line takes forever. It takes half an inning, actually, but Dean’s mostly concentrating on how Cas is still holding his hand and how little he cares that people can see. He likes the feeling of Cas’ hands, even though they’re cold. Dean remembers some old saying that goes like ‘cold hands, warm heart’ or something, and he thinks it’s pretty accurate. Regardless, he puts all his energy into warming them up.

“Dean?” Cas asks when they finally make it to the front of the line. Dean realizes he’s been staring at Cas and the concession worker and people in line behind him are getting irritated.

“Your face is distracting,” he mutters, and realizes too late how lame that sounds. They order their food and get on their way. Dean catches Cas looking at him as they walk back and their eyes meet. He holds their gaze as they walk, and even amidst the loud multitudes of people around them, all he can see is Cas.

*

The Phillies win. Sam and Dean go hoarse with their shouting and cheering along with everyone around them. Sarah does her fair share of cheering, too, though she has the foresight to keep the volume low enough to spare her vocal cords. Cas watches them with his head tilted. He looks very much like an angel trying to figure out humanity – and really, he still sort of is. He’ll always be Dean’s angel.

If traffic was a bitch _before_ the game, it is now a raging PMSing dragon. Dean drives them to a hoagie shop not too far from the stadium so they can wait out the bulk of the traffic while they eat. No one does hoagies like Philadelphia, they’ve heard, so Dean declares it’s about time they capitalized on their proximity to the city and tested this theory. They order their hoagies and sit down, and Sam and Sarah excuse themselves to either respective bathroom. Their food comes while the others are gone, and Cas retaliates for Dean’s earlier antics with not-even-a-little-subtle pornographic noises as he eats.

“The minute they leave, you’re fucking me so hard into the mattress, Cas,” Dean growls in a low tone, and Cas nearly gags on his bite of his sandwich because he’s so taken aback. A woman sitting in the booth behind them promptly leaves her table. Cas is silent, just stares at Dean with a heated look that can only be described as _eye sex_. When Sam comes back to the table, he has to clear his throat to break them from their reverie.

“Y’know, the whole creepy staring thing makes much more sense now,” Sam says, “I mean, before you were together it was just freaking weird, but at least now I know you’re actually in love or whatever.”

“Or in heat,” Dean grumbles under his breath, but Sam doesn’t hear him. Sarah rejoins them at the table and they all dig into their sandwiches – and yeah, Philly hoagies definitely live up to the hype.

The ride home consists of, first, constant chatter about the game from Dean and Sam, which eventually dissolves into a comfortable silence. Dean’s driving and Sam’s riding shotgun, and it’s bringing back memories of the days where this car was there home and the road was their life. So much has changed.

Yet, looking at his little brother smiling softly out the window with his scruffy hair in his face, Dean realizes that some things never change.

*

“You should take Sam for drinks, Dean,” Cas suggests when they get home, and Dean thinks some one-on-one brother bonding is actually a great idea. But he has to protest a little on principle.

“We can’t just leave you two,” Dean says, indicating Cas and Sarah. Sarah rolls her eyes and Cas looks perplexed.

“We’ll be fine, guys,” Sarah says, waving them off. “Go do your brother thing. Just call us when you need us to pick you up.”

“We’re not going to get _that_ drunk, Sarah,” Sam says. Sarah just wears a bemused expression and insists that she drive them. A fiancée and an ex-angel firmly set in their decisions are a force to be reckoned with, so Sam and Dean have to concede after a minute or two of protesting. Sarah drives both brothers to the closest pub, lest they get the idea to walk in their potential drunken state. Sam gives Sarah a kiss through the window she’s rolled down to tell Sam happy birthday again in a quiet, warm tone that seems very soft and intimate. Dean takes a couple steps away and studiously looks at the ground to give them a moment.

Finally, Sarah drives away and they enter the bar. They start out with just a shot of vodka each – but when the Dean proudly tells the bartender that today is Sam’s birthday, she says the next two are on the house. Four shots in, Sam’s already tipsy. Figures. For someone so huge, he’s still a lightweight.

“Dean,” he says abruptly, so seriously that it’s comical because it’s obviously due to alcohol. Dean raises an eyebrow as he signals to the bartender to bring two more beers.

“Yeah, Sammy?” Dean replies, amused.

“Dean, _thank you_ ,” he says the words slowly like Dean will miss them if he doesn’t, and Dean groans.

“I got it, I got it, you’re thankful. You’re welcome, Sam, Jesus. Remember I said no chick flick moments?”

Sam is quiet for a moment and then he nods, like he’s processed this information and is content with it.

Another two shots vodka and two shots of whiskey later, Sam is utterly drunk and hugging Dean and it’s so awkward it may actually be physically painful. It would be worse if Dean wasn’t buzzing, himself, thankfully. From the glances the bartender is shooting them, it’s clear that she thinks they’re gay for each other. Which is – ew.

“I love you, man,” Sam says into Dean’s shoulder, and makes a sound that is quite possibly sniffling.

“Love you too, Sam,” Dean says, patting Sam awkwardly on the back.

He flags down the bartender and orders another beer.

“So like… how gay _are_ you?” he asks Dean out of the blue a couple minutes later.

“… What?”

“Are you like _gay_ gay or like… gay?”

“Sammy, yer _drunnk_ ,”Dean slurs firmly and Sam huffs a frustrated breath.

“Answer the question!”

“What does that even _mean_?”

“Are you, like, the bitch or –”

“So not having this conversission.”

“It’s okay to be the bitch, Dean,” Sam says – and he’s seriously using The Concerned Empathetic Voice, the one he uses when they’re dealing with families who’ve just lost someone and they have to ask if there were flickering lights and cold spots beforehand.

“You are so lucky ‘s your birthday.”

“Cas really loves you,” Sam says, ignoring that.

“Yeah?” Dean says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Sam nods. “He’s good for you.”

“Thanks, Sammy.”

“Thanks?”

“For likin Cas. ‘Cause if you didn’t he’d haveta go. And I like Cas.”

Sam looks at him long and hard for a minute before he laughs.

“You’re stupid.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

*

When they finally leave the bar, they’re singing Happy Birthday at the top of their lungs and staggering all over the place. Sam sings “to me-ee!” when Dean sings “to Sammy!” toward the end of the song, and they both start laughing and can’t stop. Sam takes out his phone and seems to send some sort of text, but Dean doesn’t know what it says.

They’ve got matching grins on their faces as they head home on foot, because it didn’t occur to either of them to call either of their respective partners. That’s why they’re both surprised when Sam’s car pulls up beside them as they walk.

“Get in,” Sarah says. Cas is riding shotgun and looking vaguely concerned.

“How’dyaknow?” Sam asks, staring a Sarah like he’s seen the face of God.

“Well, Cas and I were able to decode your text ‘Singin, got cut off’ and we came after you.”

Sam beams.

“See? I like this girl right here. She’s smart,” he declares, and even in his drunken state he’s so full of love he practically glows under the streetlight. Sarah blushes slightly.

“Get in,” she tells them, and the two brothers comply. It’s a short drive to the flat, but Dean realizes as soon as he sits down that he’s grateful Sarah and Cas came for them. His legs feel like jelly. He hasn’t been drinking in the past couple months, not since he and Cas fell for each other or whatever, so he seriously overestimated his tolerance level.

Cas and Dean share the couch, like they always do when Sam and Sarah stay over. Dean goes straight for the back of Cas’ neck – his weak spot, Dean knows – with lavish kisses and tiny bites. Cas tenses all over, but immediately puts his hands on Dean’s face to push him away.

“We have company,” he says quietly, indicating Dean’s already sleeping brother.

“We can be quiet,” Dean says, wiggling his hips suggestively. The only tiny part of him that’s thinking clearly is wondering if he’ll remember this in the morning.

“No we can’t, Dean. Shush, you are drunk. Sleep.”

Dean sighs and complies, pulling Cas close to him and wrapping an arm around him. Cas tucks his head under Dean’s neck and they both fall asleep.

*

Dean wakes up with the biggest hangover he’s had since St. Patrick’s Day. He groans when he sits up; his pulsing head protests at the motion and he wants nothing more than to lie back down. He frowns at the empty space beside him where Cas ought to be – but then he catches scent of breakfast wafting in from the kitchen and he decides that Cas’ absence is justified. Across the room, Sam stretches and then makes a groan similar to Dean’s own and Dean assumes Sam’s hangover is probably as bad as his own.

Dean shuffles into the kitchen, the smell of food compelling enough to get him on his feet. Cas – Cas serious, _somehow_ , procured a Phillies _apron_ and he’s already pouring Dean a cup of coffee. Dean accepts the mug graciously and kisses Cas.

“You’re a godsend, Cas,” he says and Cas chuckles.

“I am, actually,” he says, and Dean grins because, ironically, that really is true.

“What are you making?” Dean asks sleepily, taking a seat at the table and slumping into the seat.

“Greasy breakfast,” Cas says, “I believe you told me once that that is the best treatment for a hangover?” He tosses Dean a bottle of Ibuprofen and Dean takes two with his coffee, giving Cas a look like he’s Jesus or something.

“What would I do without you?” Dean asks – and he finds that he means the question more than he realized.

Cas shrugs. “Go to diners for your greasy breakfast.”

Dean snorts.

“Nothing tops your cooking, Cas,” Dean says gently, and he hopes that Cas understands all the unspoken words behind it. Cas seems to smile with his eyes, so Dean takes it as confirmation.

Sarah comes into the kitchen, followed by Sam, who is clutching his head like he’s been wounded. Dean tosses Sam the bottle of pills and Sam drops it and groans. Sarah rolls her eyes and picks it up for him.

Two pills and one cup of coffee later, everyone’s sitting at the table and tucking into Cas’ stellar breakfast. He’s made a different, much healthier lunch for himself and Sarah because neither of them have hangovers – Dean has to admit that the crepes look good, but nothing’s as enticing as the food on his own plate right now. Dean keeps bumping elbows with Cas, which makes Cas look at him with a confused expression which is – if Dean’s honest – really friggin adorable. This is probably why Dean keeps doing it.

Cas serves tea after breakfast and everyone crowds onto the couch to try it out. It’s awesome, like most of Cas’ suggestions and it seems to help, somehow, with both Sam and Dean’s hangovers. It’s after everyone’s finished their tea that Sam and Sarah finally announce that they have to leave.

“Aw, guys, you don’t have to go,” Dean says, because he seriously doesn’t want them to. He enjoys their company, and it hits him all at once how much he’s going to miss them. Sam seems to only visit on holidays, and Dean has no idea when the hell the next one is.

“Yes we do,” Sarah says with a sigh, “We’ve got a date with my parents at some restaurant in honor of Sam’s birthday.”

“Some fancy one,” Sam adds, and he slumps against the couch. Dean understands – if Sam’s headache is anything like Dean’s, he’s probably not too eager to go anywhere ritzy like that. Dean, for instance, plans to spend the day in his pyjamas watching TV and – okay, yeah, cuddling with Cas.

“Monkey suit and all?” Dean asks, smirking.

“Monkey suit and all,” Sam admits ruefully.

“The drive’s at least two hours and Sam needs time to recuperate. But we’ll visit soon, okay?” Sarah’s tone is sincere, and Dean really wants to believe her.

“Okay,” is his only reply. He hugs Sarah and gives Sam a slap on the back. He can see a ‘thank you’ forming on his brother’s lips, and he quickly cuts him off.

“No. Chick. Flick. Shit,” he says, and Sam just grins.

“See you soon, Dean.”

“See ya soon, Sammy.”

Cas exchanges hugs as well – albeit awkwardly, of course – and finally all the goodbyes have been said and they leave.

No sooner is the door closed behind Sam and Sarah does Cas turn to Dean, cutting quickly into her personal space and pressing close against him. Dean raises his eyebrows, but he doesn’t have time to say something facetious before Cas’ lips are crashing against his and his hands are sliding against Dean’s skin beneath his shirt. Dean kisses back eagerly after a millisecond of confusion

“Cas?” Dean whispers when their mouths part for air.

“I believe your exact words were, ‘the minute they leave, you are fucking me so hard’, were they not?”

“Jesus,” Dean breathes.

“I prefer ‘Castiel’,” Cas says with a smile playing at the edges of his lips.

“My head hurts,” Dean protests weakly, but he knows the battle is already lost.

“I can easily distract you from that,” Cas says, and essentially attacks Dean’s mouth, all tongue and teeth and urgency. Dean closes his eyes and shuts up… because, seriously, the only downside to Sam’s birthday was being deprived of _this._

 


End file.
